Weak at the Knees Read Online Free Page A

gently circle my clitoris, awakening my desire, I banish all morbid thoughts from my mind. I turn to face him side-on and we start to kiss. Nice kissing, familiar kissing. We both start to run our hands teasingly across each other’s bodies, enjoying the soft touch of skin on skin. I’ve always liked his body. He’s tall, naturally lean and compact. It’s always felt like quite a nice fit, not that I’ve much to compare him to.
     
    In no time at all he’s pushed me onto my back, in basic missionary position, nudging his penis at that spot between my legs. I’ve not really had enough foreplay, I’m not really ready yet, but I’m tired, so it doesn’t matter, he might as well continue. I open my legs wider and guide him inside, hoping his gentle thrusting movements will excite me enough to moisten me. The slow rocking does start to turn me on, opening me up so he can get in deeper. I clasp his body in mine, like a Venus flytrap, winding my arms and legs tightly round him. I love the sensation of being filled so completely and start squeezing him with my vaginal muscles, making him even bigger and harder.
     
    “Oh, that’s gorgeous,” he moans. “Keep doing it.”
     
    I do keep doing it, but not for that much longer because it’s got him so excited that I can tell by the quickness of his breath that he’s close to coming and then with one big shudder it’s all over.
     
    “Mm,” he sighs. “That was lovely Danni.” He slides his hands under my back, turning me onto my side to hug me. “I love you.”
     
    “I love you too,” I reply.
     
    We stay hugging a little while longer, then he says goodnight, rolls over and falls fast asleep. Normally, I too would doze off immediately, but not tonight. For the first time I’m lying here thinking ‘what about me?’ I mean, Jesus, even Amber’s had an orgasm. It must be possible. I wonder though, if you’ve been in an orgasm-free relationship for this long, if it’s possible to work through it. Maybe Hugo and I are past the point of no return. I wouldn’t know how to even broach the subject. For some reason, as I lie tossing and turning, I can’t get the pub quiz out of my head. It’s not so much the actual quiz. It’s everything that happened around it.
     
    *****
     
    We needed to join a table to take part and as luck would have it, when we came out the toilets, Amber bumped into two old school friends that I vaguely knew. I’d nicknamed them Beauty and the Beast. Analise was the tall, leggy beauteous blonde. Nicki was her brunette less attractive pal. Anyway, they were up for it. We bought some drinks and each paid the £1 entry fee. Bang on time, Simon Shufflebottom started proceedings.
     
    “Right, before we get going I want you to know that there are two basic rules. Rule Number One, the Quizmaster is always right. Rule Number Two, in the unlikely event that Quizmaster is wrong, Rule Number One applies.”
     
    There was a polite snigger and then he began with the General Knowledge round.
     
    “Starters for ten,” he bellowed. “What ‘N’ was the ancient Greek goddess of victory?”
     
    “Oh, I know that,” said Amber, scribbling the answer. “It’s Nike.”
     
    She must have been taking lessons from Hugo.
     
    “Are you sure?” I ask. “I thought Nike was a make of trainers.”
     
    “Question number two,” said Simon. “What letter would you see on a hot water tap in France?”
     
    We all huddled in.
     
    “It’s ‘C’ for chaud,” I whispered.
     
    The questions were straightforward enough, so we started lapsing into chitchat. Analise and Nicki told us about this brilliant gig they’d gone to in Brick Lane, called ‘Talkaoke’. I thought it sounded like a hideous karaoke offspring, but Beauty and the Beast assured us it was the latest ‘it’ craze, where punters wanting to take part sit round this giant doughnut table. The MC sits in the middle (where the jam would be if it were a real doughnut) and provokes